الفصل الفصل 2 · The Guide.
.
THE GUIDE.
My reflections during the journey were not very agreeable. My loss,
according to the value of money at that time, was of no little
importance. I could not but confess, within my own mind, that my
behaviour at the Simbirsk inn was very stupid, and I felt guilty in
the presence of Savelitch.’ All this tormented me. The old man sat in
gloomy silence upon the seat of the vehicle, with his face averted
from me, and every now and then giving vent to a sigh. I wanted at all
hazards to become reconciled to him, but I did not know how to begin.
At last I said to him:
“Come, come, Savelitch, that will do, let us be friends. I was to
blame; I see myself that I was in the wrong. I acted very foolishly
yesterday, and I offended you without cause. I promise that I will act
more wisely for the future, and listen to your advice. Come, don’t be
angry, but let us be friends again.”
“Ah! father, Peter Andreitch,” he replied, with a deep sigh, “I am
angry with myself; I alone am to blame. How could I leave you alone in
the inn! But what else could be expected? We are led astray by sin. The
thought came into my mind to go and see the clerk’s wife, who is my
gossip.[1] But so it was: I went to my gossip, and ill-luck came of
it. Was there ever such a misfortune! How shall I ever be able to look
in the face of my master and mistress? What will they say when they
know that their child is a drunkard and a gambler?”
In order to console poor Savelitch, I gave him my word that I would
never again spend a single copeck[2] without his consent. He calmed
down by degrees, although every now and again he still continued
muttering, with a shake of the head, “A hundred roubles! It’s no
laughing matter!”
I was nearing the place of my destination. On every side of me extended
a dreary-looking plain, intersected by hills and ravines. Everything
was covered with snow. The sun was setting. The _kibitka_[3] was
proceeding along the narrow road, or, to speak more precisely, along
the track made by the peasants’ sledges Suddenly the driver began
gazing intently about him, and at last, taking off his cap, he turned
to me and said:
“My lord, will you not give orders to turn back?”
“Why?”
“The weather does not look very promising: the wind is beginning to
rise; see how it whirls the freshly fallen snow along.”
“What does that matter?”
“And do you see that yonder?”
And the driver pointed with his whip towards the east.
“I see nothing, except the white steppe and the clear sky.”
“There--away in the distance: that cloud.”
I perceived, indeed, on the edge of the horizon, a white cloud, which I
had taken at first for a distant hill. The driver explained to me that
this small cloud presaged a snowstorm.
I had heard of the snowstorms of that part of the country, and I knew
that whole trains of waggons were frequently buried in the drifts.
Savelitch was of the same opinion as the driver, and advised that we
should return. But the wind did not seem to me to be very strong: I
hoped to be able to reach the next station in good time, and I gave
orders to drive on faster.
The driver urged on the horses at a gallop, but he still continued
to gaze towards the east. The horses entered into their work with a
will. In the meantime the wind had gradually increased in violence.
The little cloud had changed into a large, white, nebulous mass, which
rose heavily, and gradually began to extend over the whole sky. A fine
snow began to fall, and then all at once this gave place to large heavy
flakes. The wind roared; the snowstorm had burst upon us. In one moment
the dark sky became confounded with the sea of snow; everything had
disappeared.
“Well, my lord,” cried the driver, “this is a misfortune; it is a
regular snowstorm!”
I looked out of the _kibitka;_ all was storm and darkness. The wind
blew with such terrific violence that it seemed as if it were endowed
with life. Savelitch and I were covered with snow: the horses ploughed
their way onward at a walking pace, and soon came to a standstill.
“Why don’t you go on?” I called out impatiently to the driver.
“But where am I to drive to?” he replied, jumping down from his seat;
“I haven’t the slightest idea as to where we are; there is no road, and
it is dark all round.”
I began to scold him. Savelitch took his part.
“You ought to have taken his advice,” he said angrily. “You should have
returned to the posting-house; you could have had some tea and could
have slept there till the morning; the storm would have blown over by
that time, and then you could have proceeded on your journey. And why
such haste? It would be all very well if we were going to a wedding!”
Savelitch was right. But what was to be done? The snow still continued
to fall. A drift began to form around the _kibitka._ The horses stood
with dejected heads, and every now and then a shudder shook their
frames. The driver kept walking round them, and, being unable to do
anything else, busied himself with adjusting the harness. Savelitch
grumbled. I looked round on every side, hoping to discover some sign of
a house or a road, but I could distinguish nothing except the confused
whirling snowdrifts Suddenly I caught sight of something black.
“Hillo! driver,” I cried; “look! what is that black object yonder?”
The driver looked carefully in the direction indicated.
“God knows, my lord,” said he, seating himself in his place again; “it
is neither a sledge nor a tree, and it seems to move. It must be either
a man or a wolf.”
I ordered him to drive towards the unknown object, which was gradually
drawing nearer to us. In about two minutes we came up to it and
discovered it to be a man.
“Hi! my good man,” cried the driver to him; “say, do you know where the
road is?”
“The road is here; I am standing on a firm track,” replied the
wayfarer. “But what of it?”
“Listen, peasant,” said I to him; “do you know this country? Can you
lead me to a place where I can obtain a night’s lodging?”
“I know the country very well,” replied the peasant. “Heaven be
thanked, I have crossed it and re-crossed it in every direction. But
you see what sort of weather it is: it would be very easy to miss the
road. You had much better stay here and wait; perhaps the storm will
blow over, and the sky become clear, then we shall be able to find the
road by the help of the stars.”
His cool indifference encouraged me. I had already resolved to abandon
myself to the will of God and to pass the night upon the steppe, when
suddenly the peasant mounted to the seat of our vehicle and said to the
driver:
“Thank Heaven, there is a house not far off; turn to the right and go
straight on.”
“Why should I go to the right?” asked the driver in a dissatisfied
tone. “Where do you see a road? I am not the owner of these horses that
I should use the whip without mercy.”
The driver seemed to me to be in the right.
“In truth,” said I, “why do you think that there is a house not far
off?”
“Because the wind blows from that direction,” replied the wayfarer,
“and I can smell smoke; that is a sign that there is a village close at
hand.”
His sagacity and nicety of smell astonished me. I ordered the driver to
go on. The horses moved heavily through the deep snow. The _kibitka_
advanced very slowly, at one moment mounting to the summit of a ridge,
at another sinking into a deep hollow, now rolling to one side, and now
to the other. It was very much like being in a ship on a stormy sea.
Savelitch sighed and groaned, and continually jostled against me. I let
down the cover of the _kibitka_, wrapped myself up in my cloak, and
fell into a slumber, lulled by the music of the storm, and rocked by
the motion of the vehicle.
I had a dream which I shall never forget, and in which I still see
something prophetic when I compare it with the strange events of my
life. The reader will excuse me for mentioning the matter, for probably
he knows from experience that man is naturally given to superstition
in spite of the great contempt entertained for it.
I was in that condition of mind when reality and imagination become
confused in the vague sensations attending the first stage of
drowsiness. It seemed to me that the storm still continued, and that
we were still wandering about the wilderness of snow.... All at once I
caught sight of a gate, and we entered the courtyard of our mansion. My
first thought was a fear that my father would be angry with me for my
involuntary return to the paternal roof, and would regard it as an act
of intentional disobedience. With a feeling of uneasiness I sprang out
of the _kibitka_, and saw my mother coming down the steps to meet me,
with a look of deep affliction upon her face.
“Hush!” she said to me; “your father is on the point of death, and
wishes to take leave of you.”
Struck with awe, I followed her into the bedroom. I looked about me;
the room was dimly lighted, and round the bed stood several persons
with sorrow-stricken countenances. I approached very gently; my mother
raised the curtain and said:
“Andrei Petrovitch, Petrousha has arrived; he has returned because he
heard of your illness; give him your blessing.”
I knelt down and fixed my eyes upon the face of the sick man. But
what did I see?... Instead of my father, I saw lying in the bed a
black-bearded peasant, who looked at me with an expression of gaiety
upon his countenance. Greatly perplexed, I turned round to my mother
and said to her:
“What does all this mean? This is not my father. Why should I ask this
peasant for his blessing?”
“It is all the same, Petrousha,” replied my mother; “he is your
stepfather; kiss his hand and let him bless you.” I would not consent
to it. Then the peasant sprang out of bed, grasped the axe which hung
at his back,[4] and commenced flourishing it about on every side. I
wanted to run away, but I could not; the room began to get filled with
dead bodies; I kept stumbling against them, and my feet continually
slipped in pools of blood. The dreadful peasant called out to me in a
gentle voice, saying:
“Do not be afraid; come and receive my blessing.” Terror and doubt took
possession of me.... At that moment I awoke; the horses had come to a
standstill. Savelitch took hold of my hand, saying:
“Get out, my lord, we have arrived.”
“Where are we?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.
“At a place of refuge. God came to our help and conducted us straight
to the fence of the house. Get out as quickly as you can, my lord, and
warm yourself.”
I stepped out of the _kibitka._ The storm still raged, although with
less violence than at first. It was as dark as if we were totally
blind. The host met us at the door, holding a lantern under the skirt
of his coat, and conducted me into a room, small, but tolerably clean.
It was lit up by a pine torch. On the wall hung a long rifle, and a
tall Cossack cap.
The host, a Yaikian Cossack by birth, was a peasant of about sixty
years of age, still hale and strong. Savelitch brought in the
tea-chest, and asked for a fire in order to prepare some tea, which I
seemed to need at that moment more than at any other time in my life.
The host hastened to attend to the matter.
“Where is the guide?” I said to Savelitch.
“Here, your Excellency,” replied a voice from above.
I glanced up at the loft, and saw a black beard and two sparkling eyes.
“Well, friend, are you cold?”
“How could I be otherwise than cold in only a thin tunic! I had a fur
coat, but why should I hide my fault?--I pawned it yesterday with a
brandy-seller; the cold did not seem to be so severe.”
At that moment the host entered with a smoking tea-urn; I offered our
guide a cup of tea; the peasant came down from the loft. His exterior
seemed to me somewhat remarkable. He was about forty years of age, of
middle height, thin and broad-shouldered. In his black beard streaks
of grey were beginning to make their appearance; his large, lively
black eyes were incessantly on the roll. His face had something rather
agreeable about it, although an expression of vindictiveness could also
be detected upon it. His hair was cut close round his head. He was
dressed in a ragged tunic and Tartar trousers. I gave him a cup of tea;
he tasted it, and made a wry face.
“Your Excellency,” said he, “be so good as to order a glass of wine for
me; tea is not the drink for us Cossacks.”
I willingly complied with his request. The landlord brought a square
bottle and a glass from a cupboard, went up to him, and, looking into
his face, said:
“Oh! you are again in our neighbourhood! Where have you come from?”
My guide winked significantly, and made reply:
“Flying in the garden, pecking hempseed; the old woman threw a stone,
but it missed its aim. And how is it with--you?”
“How is it with us?” replied the landlord, continuing the allegorical
conversation, “they were beginning to ring the vespers, but the pope’s
wife would not allow it: the pope is on a visit, and the devils are in
the glebe.”
“Hold your tongue, uncle,” replied my rover; “when there is rain,
there will be mushrooms; and when there are mushrooms, there will be
a pannier; but now” (and here he winked again) “put your axe behind
your back; the ranger is going about. Your Excellency, I drink to your
health!”
With these words he took hold of the glass, made the sign of the
cross, and drank off the liquor in one draught; then, bowing to me, he
returned to the loft.
At that time I could not understand anything of this thieves’ slang,
but afterwards I understood that it referred to the Yaikian army, which
had only just then been reduced to submission after the revolt of 1772.
Savelitch listened with a look of great dissatisfaction. He glanced
very suspiciously, first at the landlord, then at the guide. The inn,
or _umet_, as it was called in those parts, was situated in the middle
of the steppe, far from every habitation or village, and had very much
the appearance of a rendezvous for thieves. But there was no help for
it. We could not think of continuing our journey. The uneasiness of
Savelitch afforded me very great amusement. In the meantime I made all
necessary arrangements for passing the night comfortably, and then
stretched myself upon a bench. Savelitch resolved to avail himself of
the stove[5]; our host lay down upon the floor. Soon all in the house
were snoring, and I fell into a sleep as sound as that of the grave.
When I awoke on the following morning, at a somewhat late hour, I
perceived that the storm was over. The sun was shining. The snow lay
like a dazzling shroud over the boundless steppe. The horses were
harnessed. I paid the reckoning to the host, the sum asked of us being
so very moderate that even Savelitch did not dispute the matter and
commence to haggle about the payment as was his usual custom; moreover,
his suspicions of the previous evening had completely vanished from
his mind. I called for our guide, thanked him for the assistance he had
rendered us, and ordered Savelitch to give him half a rouble for brandy.
Savelitch frowned.
“Half a rouble for brandy?” said he; “why so? Because you were pleased
to bring him with you to this inn? With your leave, my lord, but we
have not too many half roubles to spare. If we give money for brandy
to everybody we have to deal with, we shall very soon have to starve
ourselves.”
I could not argue with Savelitch. According to my own promise, the
disposal of my money was to be left entirely to his discretion. But I
felt rather vexed that I was not able to show my gratitude to a man
who, if he had not rescued me from certain destruction, had at least
delivered me from a very disagreeable position.
“Well,” said I, coldly, “if you will not give him half a rouble, give
him something out of my wardrobe; he is too thinly clad. Give him my
hare-skin pelisse.”
“In the name of Heaven, father, Peter Andreitch!” said Savelitch, “why
give him your pelisse? The dog will sell it for drink at the first
tavern that he comes to.”
“It is no business of yours, old man,” said my stroller, “whether I
sell it for drink or not. His Excellency is pleased to give me a cloak
from off his own shoulders; it is his lordly will, and it is your duty,
as servant, to obey, and not to dispute.”
“Have you no fear of God, you robber!” said Savelitch, in an angry
tone. “You see that the child has not yet reached the age of
discretion, and yet you are only too glad to take advantage of his
good-nature, and rob him. What do you want with my master’s pelisse?
You will not be able to stretch it across your accursed shoulders.”
“I beg of you not to show off your wit,” I said to my guardian. “Bring
the pelisse hither immediately!”
“Gracious Lord!” groaned Savelitch, “the pelisse is almost brand-new!
If it were to anybody deserving of it, it would be different, but to
give it to a ragged drunkard!”
However, the pelisse was brought. The peasant instantly commenced to
try it on. And, indeed, the garment, which I had grown out of, and
which was rather tight for me, was a great deal too small for him. But
he contrived to get it on somehow, though not without bursting the
seams in the effort. Savelitch very nearly gave vent to a groan when
he heard the stitches giving way. The stroller was exceedingly pleased
with my present. He conducted me to the _kibitka_, and said, with a low
bow:
“Many thanks, your Excellency! May God reward you for your virtue. I
shall never forget your kindness.”
He went his way, and I set out again on my journey, without paying any
attention to Savelitch, and I soon forgot all about the storm of the
previous day, the guide, and my pelisse.
On arriving at Orenburg, I immediately presented myself to the general.
He was a tall man, but somewhat bent with age. His long hair was
perfectly white. His old faded uniform recalled to mind the warrior of
the time of the Empress Anne, and he spoke with a strong German accent.
I gave him the letter from my father. On hearing the name, he glanced
at me quickly.
“_Mein Gott!_” said he, “it does not seem so very long ago since Andrei
Petrovitch was your age, and now what a fine young fellow he has got
for a son! _Ach_! time, time!”
He opened the letter and began to read it half aloud, making his own
observations upon it in the course of his reading.
“‘Esteemed Sir, Ivan Karlovitch, I hope that your Excellency’--Why
all this ceremony? Pshaw! Isn’t he ashamed of himself? To be sure,
discipline before everything, but is that the way to write to an old
comrade?--‘Your Excellency has not forgotten’--Hm!--‘and--when--with
the late Field Marshal Mün--in the campaign--also Caroline’--Ha,
brother! he still remembers our old pranks, then?--‘Now to
business.--I send you my young hopeful’--Hm!--‘Hold him with hedgehog
mittens.’--What are hedgehog mittens? That must be a Russian
proverb.--What does ‘hold him with hedgehog mittens’ mean?” he
repeated, turning to me.
“It means,” I replied, looking as innocent as I possibly could, “to
treat a person kindly, not to be too severe, and to allow as much
liberty as possible.”
“Hm! I understand--‘And do not give him too much liberty.’--No, it is
evident that ‘hedgehog mittens’ does not mean that.--‘Enclosed you
will find his passport.’--Where is it then? Ah! here it is.--‘Enrol
him in the Semenovsky Regiment.’--Very well, very well, everything
shall be attended to.--‘Allow me without ceremony to embrace you as an
old comrade and friend.’--Ah! at last he has got to it.--‘Etcetera,
etcetera.’--‘Well, my little father,’ said he, finishing the reading of
the letter, and putting my passport on one side, ‘everything shall be
arranged; you shall be an officer in the Regiment, and so that you may
lose no time, start to-morrow for the fortress of Bailogorsk, where you
will be under the command of Captain Mironoff, a good and honest man.
There you will learn real service, and be taught what real discipline
is. Orenburg is not the place for you, there is nothing for you to do
there; amusements are injurious to a young man. Favour me with your
company at dinner to-day.”
“This is getting worse and worse,” I thought to myself. “Of what use
will it be to me to have been a sergeant in the Guards almost from my
mother’s womb! Whither has it led me? To the Regiment, and to a dreary
fortress on the borders of the Kirghis-Kaisaks steppes!”
I dined with Andrei Karlovitch, in company with his old adjutant. A
strict German economy ruled his table, and I believe that the fear of
being obliged to entertain an additional guest now and again was partly
the cause of my being so promptly banished to the garrison.
The next day I took leave of the general, and set out for the place of
my destination.
[Footnote 1: Savelitch uses the word here in its old meaning of
fellow-sponsor.]
[Footnote 2: A tenth of a penny.]
[Footnote 3: A kind of rough travelling cart.]
[Footnote 4: The Russian peasant usually carries his axe behind him.]
[Footnote 5: The usual sleeping place of the Russian peasant.]